la douleur exquise

I’ve sat staring at this empty screen for 20 minutes.

Large cappuccino. Room fan on full. A unknown song plays (fall to water washed away, all that water washed away). Someone else’s things surround me and this room is not mine.

My hair is blonde now and I’ve put on a few pounds, my yellow hoodie is hanging by the door, it’s all I wear.

My heart has been dead since January 2021 and the losses haven’t stopped coming.

My mum passed away last October. I wanted to write about it like I did when I lost my dad but I just couldn’t, so instead I just packed up the emotions and locked them in a cupboard.

I wanted to write about her life and her struggles. I wanted to write about how much I miss her and how sorry I am that her life wasn’t everything it could have been.

My cappuccino is going cold.

09:10am, I need to be home by 11 to take my Grandad shopping.

This post is all over the place though I knew it would be and to anyone who reads it I am sorry.

I have been in pain for the longest time and it has somehow become comfortable to me.

I’ve been basking in it. Do I enjoy it? Is it exquisite?

I’m going to go smoke a cigarillo on the wall outside then I’ll leave.

I’m coming back I promise and I will clarify some of the mind vomit I just left here.

When I know how. When the pain isn’t so exquisite anymore and when I finally find the words.